Death of the Vampire

by Gayla Twist

  “Oh,” Alice said, coming up next to me. “Is that where that went? I was wondering. I swear I’ve searched the castle a dozen times for that ring.” She took it out of my hands and slipped it on her finger. It was maddening how careless the undead could be about incredibly valuable jewelry.

  Picking up a Zorro-style mask and holding it to her face, my maker said, “I think I should go as a man. That’ll make it less obvious that we are who we are. Do you know anything about cutting hair?”

  “No,” I quickly told her, aghast. “Nothing at all.” There was no way I was going to cut waves of inky black that was the hair of my maker, and future mother-in-law. She already blamed me for the death of her oldest son. I didn’t want to make things worse.

  Alice could read the expression on my face and she chuckled. “It’ll grow back, you know. I’m a vampire; I have the time.”

  I had to chuckle. “It doesn’t matter. No one would ever believe you’re a man, anyway.” When she raised her eyebrows, I explained. “You’re too graceful. The party guests will see instantly that you are a woman.”

  “I’m not expecting to fully convince them,” she explained. “I just want to throw them off a little with some gender-bending antics while we search for information.” She gave me an assessing look. “I don’t suppose you know how to tango.”

  I shook my head.

  “Pity,” Alice said before returning to our task. After a little more digging, she pulled an emerald green, sequined gown out of the pile and said, “I think you should wear this.”

  The gown glittered so much, it was dazzling. “That’s not exactly low-profile.”

  “And we’ll change your hair to red,” my maker added, looking at my tumble of chestnut locks. “Bright red.”

  “How does that help me blend in?” I wasn’t following her.

  “It’s doesn’t,” Alice said with a smile. When I gave her a confused look, she explained, “If anyone is looking for us at the party, they’ll be expecting two women trying to hide in the crowd. If you wear this,” she held up the gown, “with a massive crown of red hair, then the whole room will be staring at you and no one would think you were on the lam, trying be sneaky.”

  “Okay… I get the idea,” I told her, “but that kind of thing takes a whole lot of confidence and I’m not quite sure I’m the person to pull it off.”

  Alice looked me dead in the eye. “Of course, you are. If you want to save Jessie, then you will have to become the most confident person in the world.”

  I loved Jessie more than my own life. If I didn’t save him then I would curl up and die, even without the sun burning me to ashes or a wooden stake being driven through my heart. I nodded my head. “I can do it.”

  Alice tossed me the gown. “That’s what I thought.”

  After a little more digging, Alice found a tuxedo and tails that she thought would fit. It had lapels wide enough for a plane to land, but she assured me that was the style of the time. I’d been wondering how she was going to dye my hair, but she opened a cupboard, revealing a set of various colored wigs on stands. There was one that was a bright red, styled in loose curls. “A little dusty, but it should work,” she said, handing it to me. She then dug around in a box for a moment before handing me a pair of scissors. “And now for me.”

  Shaking my head, I backed away from her. “Um… Maybe we can use another wig for you,” I suggested. “We can trim one of them super short.”

  Alice looked me dead in the eye. “I want you to cut it. I’m willing to make sacrifices to save my son.” Then, blinking rapidly, she said, “It’s not even like it’s a sacrifice. Who cares about a bad haircut when you’re a vampire? Even if it takes two years to grow back; that’s a blink of the eye when you’re facing eternity. And besides, what reason would I have to live, if all of my children are gone?”

  I remembered that Jessie had a sister who was never turned. It must have been torture for Alice to see her daughter grow old and then pass away, while she remained youthful and vibrant.

  “Do it,” Alice said, thrusting the shears at me.

  My maker had beautiful hair; it was black, silky and thick, just like her youngest son’s. It hung past her shoulders like a curtain of black velvet. Cutting it felt like a crime.

  But she was my maker. I’d resisted her commands during our escape from Lord Vagnar’s castle. I couldn’t keep refusing her; it felt unnatural. She may not have drunk any of my blood, but I’d drunk hers. “Okay…” I stammered, “but I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I grabbed a lock of her hair and snipped, cringing as a pile of black threads fell to the floor. But Alice just sighed, relaxing imperceptibly. “Yes,” she whispered, “cut it off. Cut it all off.”

  I had to admit, Alice looked striking with her shorn hair slicked back and the black mask covering half of her face. The tuxedo fit her well, although I’d had to pin it in places. “How do I look?” she asked me, her mouth a straight line.

  “Good,” I told her. “Handsome.” If I was being honest, she looked a lot like Jessie. “But I still recognize you.”

  “How about now?” she asked, throwing back her head and laughing, her face transformed with mirth and delight.

  “Like a party reveler without a care in the world,” I said. Her transformation was complete.

  The smile melted from my maker’s face, and she turned back to a woman in mourning. “Good.”

  I struggled with getting all of my hair stuffed under the red wig. My head looked lumpy and wrong. Eventually Alice found a pair of stockings for me to use as a skullcap. Once my curls were contained then the wig looked much better.

  The sequined dress was snug, but not overly tight. Green looked great with the red wig. And it really made my eyes pop. By modern standards, the dress wasn’t very sexy. It had long sleeves and the neckline wasn’t exactly plunging, but I assumed it was rather daring for its day.

  Alice gave me an appraising eye. “It needs something.”

  I looked down at the emerald spangles. “What?”

  Bending down, my maker grabbed the hem of the dress and ripped open a side seam, exposing my legs practically up to my panties. “There,” she said, standing up after ripping away a few stray threads. “That’s much better.”

  “Thank you…?” I said, not sure what else to say. There were no windows and I didn’t have a watch, but I could sense that the sun had gone down a few hours ago. “Are we ready?”

  “Almost.” Alice walked over to the selection of masks we’d pulled from the wardrobe. “Nothing is exactly perfect,” she said, reviewing the choices, “but this one is probably the best.” She picked up a Venetian-style bird mask. It was detailed in gold feathers and glittering with small white stones that I seriously hoped weren’t real diamonds. “Try it on.” She handed it to me.

  I slid it over my head. “I don’t feel very glamorous in this.” In fact, I felt like an idiot. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be the life of the party.” There were a few other masks that were subtler. “Can’t I wear something that’s a bit prettier and less like a giant beak?”

  Alice considered my request with her hand to her chin, studying the full effect of my costume. “No, I think not. There will be dozens of vivacious women in dazzling dresses in attendance. You can’t show up in a gown that is forty years out of date and then shy away from an outlandish mask to complete your disguise. You are meant to draw the eye of every vampire in the room.”

  “I’m in the dress equivalent to an emerald disco ball,” I pointed out.

  This made Alice actually smile. She reached up and adjusted my beak so that it was a little off kilter. “Then own it.”

  “Fine.” She was right, and I knew it.

  Smoothing down her cummerbund, Alice said, “Good. Then I think we should go. We don’t want to arrive to the party too late or people will notice.”

  “And the food might run out,” I added. My stomach was growling.

>   Alice shook her head. “A wise host never lets the food run out at an undead party,” she informed me. “That can prove very dangerous, especially for the mortal staff, or any unfortunate neighbors.”

  A chill ran up my spine. I remembered that the closest neighbors to Lord Vagnar’s castle had not been very lucky, and that was partially my fault. “How do we get there?” I asked. “The party, I mean.”

  A small smile parted my maker’s lips. “We walk.”

  I stood next to Alice as she opened the door to the second wardrobe. It was empty. “Feel around the doorframe on your side,” she instructed while sticking her hand in and feeling around the doorframe on her side. “There’s a button somewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

  “I think I found it,” I said, my fingers exploring a small bump in the wood. I pressed it and the back of the wardrobe popped open. “Neat.”

  “Now, remember when we get there,” my maker said, pushing the door open and stepping through the hole. “You are a vivacious party-goer who doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  “Does a vivacious party-goer get to have a lot to eat?” I asked, following her.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  We were in a small tunnel. We walked maybe ten feet before we reached a dead-end. Alice began feeling around the wall. She found what she was looking for, pressed on it, and a section of the wall popped open an inch. Sticking her hand in the gap, Alice slid open the wall, revealing a gray door with another keypad. She tapped at it several times, scowling and muttering under her breath before the keypad flashed a green light and there was a popping sound of a lock opening.

  Alice pushed gently on the door. There was a cracking sound and some dried paint fragments puffed into the air. Alice pushed the door wide enough to stick her head through and then stopped. “Oh, dear.”

  “What?”

  “It appears that someone has seen fit to put a marble statue on the other side,” she told me, sliding through the gap at an awkward angle. “Be careful; we wouldn’t want to damage anything.”

  I imitated her movements, avoiding a carving of a hunter carrying home his day’s kill. We exited into a large, airy hallway with high ceilings and marble floors. There were velvet chairs in a deep plum and a few paintings dotting the walls at even intervals.

  Once I was through, Alice pushed the door shut again. It would have been virtually invisible to the eye as it blended with the wall if it wasn’t for the chipped paint around the edges.

  My maker chewed on her lip a moment. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “How did you even have this installed?” I asked.

  “Years ago, construction workers were more like craftsmen,” my maker replied. “But I’m afraid the Bauhaus movement slowly killed all that. Everything is so utilitarian now.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, and she hadn’t really answered my question, but the sound of footsteps stopped me from pressing for details.

  I thought that maybe we should get the heck out of there, but Alice appeared unconcerned.

  A beam of light flashed around the room and then settled on us. A frightened male voice said something in Hungarian. He was dressed in some type of beige uniform, complete with nightstick. The man was right to be frightened. My stomach was growling.

  Alice stepped forward, staring at the man, steadily. She said something back to him, also in what I assumed was Hungarian. I could tell by the glassy look in the man’s eyes that he was instantly under her influence.

  She said several sentences to him. He only nodded in response. Then he gestured for us to follow him, which Alice did.

  “You speak Hungarian?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Just enough to get a drink when I need one.”

  The man led us down the hall and into a large, domed room. It was all done in marble and our footsteps echoed across the floor. “So, this is the capital building?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Alice apparently wasn’t in the mood to play tour guide.

  After crossing the room, the guard unlocked a small side door. Alice said a few more words to the man and then strolled out into the evening, with me dogging after her. “Thank you,” I said to the guard, my stomach rumbling as I caught the scent of him. He’d just been snacking on something; some kind of bread with plenty of butter. I didn’t know which I wanted more; the man’s bread or his blood. I felt a fluttering of sadness; I hadn’t been a member of the undead for a month and I already missed food.

  And then I was instantly angry with myself. How could I think about anything but Jessie? He was probably locked in a cell with silver bars, not knowing if he would see another sunset. I needed to get my head back in the game. I needed to go to this stupid vampire party and act like I was having the time of my death.

  Chapter 6

  Alice went traipsing quickly down the cobblestone street, leaving me to follow in her wake. Not as many mortals stared at us as you would expect, despite how we were dressed. Given the number of vampires who lived in Hungary, I guess seeing people dressed in lavish costumes was a bit of an everyday occurrence. Or an every night occurrence, at least.

  I knew Alice didn’t like me. I knew that even being near me was a challenge for her. But you would think she could at least walk with me to a party, like a normal person. Making me chase after her was awkward, given what we were trying to pull off.

  “Hold up,” I called. She reluctantly slowed her steps. “If we’re going to do this right, then we have to make an entrance.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”

  The longer I was with Alice, the easier it became to just ignore the fact that she hated me half the time. I wanted to please her, rather desperately. But constantly trying to please someone who was a jerk to you was a good recipe for an abusive relationship. My mother had taught me that, and I wasn’t about to forget it just because some woman had given me eternal life.

  But there wasn’t enough time for me to explain all of that to my maker. Instead, I wove my arm through hers. “Let’s just try to pretend like we can stand each other,” I said between clenched teeth as we approached the door of a fancy hotel. I could see members of the undead descending from carriages and climbing out of fancy limousines. So, I threw my head back and released an enormous laugh. “Oh, Fernando,” I exclaimed, swatting her on the shoulder. “That’s just too gauche. You are a wicked thing.”

  Alice raised her eyes at me, as if to ask, “Fernando?”

  I gave her an impish shrug. Fernando was the first name that had popped into my head that I thought might annoy her. Or maybe it was because we were dressed in the height of seventies fashion and my mother had always enjoyed ABBA.

  Other members of the undead glanced in our direction. They briefly took in her tuxedo and my emerald green gown before going back to the business of making their own entrances to the party.

  The mortal checking guests at the door did nothing to stop us. He simply checked out my legs and then opened the velvet rope. I had to wonder if any mortals ever tried to sneak into a vampire party and if that ever turned out to be a good idea.

  And then, with a start, I remembered that I had snuck onto the Vanderlind estate when I was a mortal, crashing Jessie’s birthday party. My friend, Blossom, and I had barely escaped with our lives. I had to imagine that there had been thousands of mortals over the centuries who hadn’t been so lucky.

  The hotel’s lobby was clean and modern in a way that contrasted nicely with the old walnut architectural details of the building’s interior. A staff member in a double-breasted suit ushered us toward what I assumed was the ballroom. Vampires were big on ballrooms. Whoever was hosting the party must have rented out the entire hotel because I couldn’t see one mortal who wasn’t staff.

  “Shall I announce you?” another staff member asked as we walked into the ball. He said it in English, which surprised me.

  “No, we shan’t need your services,
” Alice told him, sounding way too formal.

  “Because we can do it ourselves,” I added in a boisterous voice. And then, in an even louder voice, I said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Fernando and Lady X.”

  There was a polite scattering of applause and then the partygoers returned to their conversations. We must have arrived during a break in the dancing. The undead loved to dance, usually the waltz, but also eighties alternative with some regularity. I wasn’t super comfortable dancing to anything, but Jessie had done his best to make me less awkward out on the floor.

  As Alice and I strolled in, a waiter approached with a tray of goblets. I was so hungry that I almost knocked the man down to drink directly from the source. But Alice pinned me to her by locking her arm to her chest. “Thank you,” she said to the waiter, handing me a goblet and then selecting one for herself.

  “There’s plenty,” she whispered while taking a dainty sip. And then, as if she could read my mind, she added, “That would be the wrong kind of attention.”

  “Oh, Fernando, don’t I know it,” I trilled before taking a few glugs from my own glass. As I felt the sweet nectar rushing through my body, I knew that I could contain myself; I wouldn’t lose control.

  An elegant vampiress approached me. “Dahling,” she said in what sounded like a ZsaZsa Gabor accent. “Where ever did you get that gown? It’s divine. I haven’t seen a style like that since I was gorging myself in the alley behind Studio 54.”

  “Oh, this old thing?” I asked, baring my left leg through the tall slit and then doing a little twirl. “Just something I dug out from the back of my wardrobe.” The vampiress and I both laughed as if I’d just said something amazingly funny. “Tell me about your days at the disco,” I pressed, knowing most vampires’ predilection for nostalgia. “Did you ever take a little sip from one of the BeeGees?”

  “Regretfully, no.” The vampiress shook her head. She was dressed in black and white from head to toe, her hair being dyed to match. It was Cruella de Vil-esque. l. “But I did manage to sink my fangs into Diana Ross one night.”